Chapter 3
The delicious scent of coffee drifted over Jake as he pushed open the door to the Coffee Bean and held it open for Emily.
The bell above them announced their presence, and the shop was buzzing with activity as customers sat at the tables or in
booths enjoying their drinks and pastries. A few others stood in line at the counter, where Ava Burns, an acquaintance from
high school, and her younger sister, Brooklyn, took and filled their orders.
Jake had heard that the sisters’ dream of establishing this little shop had come true approximately five years ago when their
father, a judge in their district, loaned them the money. It had quickly taken off and was known for being one of the most
successful coffee shops for miles. A review from the local newspaper was framed and hung in a prominent place on a wall, raving
that the Coffee Bean was far above the quality of the chain coffee shops in the area.
Emily waved to Ava behind the counter as she took her place next to Jake in line.
“Are you going to have your usual—lots of cream and sugar with a dash of coffee?” he asked.
“Yup.” She adjusted her huge bag, which she called her purse, on her shoulder and glanced around the shop.
“Why don’t you find a table, and I’ll bring the coffee?” he asked.
“Sure thing.” She gave him a mock salute and then hurried over to claim a booth in the far corner.
“Hey, Jake,” Ava said when he got to the front of the line. “How are things at the orchard?”
“Fine. The season is about to start.” He drew his wallet from his back pocket. “I see you’re staying busy. How’s Dylan’s shop
doing?” he asked. Ava’s husband, Dylan, had also graduated with them and ran Burns Auto Repair with his father and brother.
“Good. Busy. What can I get ya?”
“I’ll take an americano and a regular coffee,” he said.
Ava rang him up, and he swiped his card before moving to the end of the counter, where Brooklyn was filling orders. Jake reclined
against the wall and peered across the shop to where Emily sat in a booth, hunched over the table with a pen poised in her
right hand while she doodled on a napkin. He grinned. Typical Em. Drawing was second nature to her, which was why he never
understood why she quit teaching art to sling coffee cups all day long.
“Jake, how’s your dad doing?”
He turned as Mrs. Smith, the owner of the Flower Shoppe across the street, moved to stand beside him. “Doing better. Thanks.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.” She pushed her pink glasses farther up on her long, thin nose. “I heard he had a massive heart attack,
and I was thinking of him. That’s so stressful.”
“Yeah.” She could say that again.
“I guess the orchard is getting ready to open, huh?” she asked, and he nodded. “What do you think about the McClain orchard
selling out to a big company?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure what to think.”
“I’ve heard that they’re planning a big harvest festival–type opening. There’s a rumor that they’re going to have hayrides
and things like that. And they’re going to discount everything, from apples to jams.”
Jake’s stomach twisted. “I heard something like that too.” This was why he’d asked Emily to come and help him with the anniversary.
He knew he was up against a giant.
“Mrs. Smith?” Brooklyn called, holding up a cup.
The older woman patted Jake’s shoulder. “Don’t let it get you down. Your family’s orchard is a part of what makes Splendid
Lake special.”
“Thanks.” He hoped she was right.
After Brooklyn handed him the two coffees, he added copious amounts of cream and sugar to Emily’s drink and then carried the
warm cups to the booth, where Emily was still hunched over the napkin. He stood beside her and took in the elaborate doodle
of a pickup truck. In typical Emily fashion, the doodle featured impressive details. The pickup truck’s grill was nearly identical
to his, down to the emblem, and the driver wore a baseball cap featuring the Mets’ logo.
She’d drawn on a napkin every day at lunchtime when they were in school.
Sometimes she’d draw a few flowers, and on others she’d create an elaborate landscape featuring the lake, the downtown area, or even his orchard.
She’d spend nearly their entire lunch period drawing while still participating in conversations, and when she was satisfied that the doodles were complete, she’d pass them over to Jake and say, “For you.” He cherished those things.
When his pile of her napkin doodles on his dresser turned into a mountain, he’d found a box and kept them—each and every one.
One night a few years ago he caught Claire snooping in his old bedroom and rifling through the box. When she’d demanded to
know why he’d kept Emily’s “ridiculous drawings,” he’d ripped the box out of her hands and told her to mind her own business.
She hadn’t liked that at all, but Jake stood firm that he’d never go through her personal things and, therefore, she shouldn’t
invade his privacy. Claire said she couldn’t comprehend his “weird friendship” with Emily, but Jake didn’t care.
And Claire obviously couldn’t see that Emily had talent—real talent—and he would never understand why she wasn’t putting it to good use.
“Not bad,” he quipped, setting her cup on the table.
She gasped and sat back, clutching her chest. “You need to stop sneaking up on me. I’m going to have to put a bell on you.”
He chuckled and slid onto the bench across from her. “Some of your best art has been drawn on a napkin.”
“Right,” she muttered before crumpling the downy paper.
“Hey!” He grabbed the napkin and smoothed it out. “This is too awesome to destroy.”
She rolled her eyes, sipped her drink, and smiled. “The perfect coffee.”
“If you say so.” He tapped the napkin. “I kept every single napkin doodle you made in middle and high school.”
Her brow furrowed. “You did not.”
“Did too. They’re in a box in my old room at my folks’ house.”
She eyed him with surprise. “You’re lying.”
“Am not. I’ll find them for you.” Jake took a draw from his cup and savored the caffeinated goodness. Ahhh. The Coffee Bean served the best coffee in Splendid Lake—possibly even the state of North Carolina.
Emily gestured toward the counter. “What was Mrs. Smith saying to you?”
“She asked about my dad and then she mentioned that the newly revamped orchard has some big plans, like hayrides and all that.
She said my family’s orchard is a staple around here and to not let it get me down.” His lips flattened. “I hope she’s right.”
“Of course she’s right, silly. Hughes Family Orchard is the best.” She dropped her pen into her ginormous purse. “I want to
see the new one. Take me there.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, now.” She pushed herself out of the booth. “Let’s go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he teased. He folded the napkin and slipped it into his pocket as he followed her out into the humid late-summer
air.
They hustled along the sidewalk toward his waiting pickup truck, and he took in some of the welcoming signs on that side of
the street. The Christmas Shop was open year-round. The Warner, Splendid Lake’s single-screen movie theater, stood next to
Morningside Bakery, and the Flower Shoppe was next to Scoops, the local ice cream parlor. Each was owned and operated by local
residents.
Glancing to the north, he spotted the town hall, library, fire station, and police station rimming the town square. He breathed
in the lake and its familiar smell mixed with the delicious aromas coming from the town’s longtime family restaurant, the
Splendid Kitchen, and all the shops that served treats and beverages.
He loved his little town. It was home—and also why he couldn’t imagine moving to Nashville with Claire.
The familiar pit opened in his stomach when he considered his longtime girlfriend.
They were at a strange fork in the road, but he couldn’t think about that today.
He was with Emily, and they were focused on the orchard—his family’s livelihood and legacy.
“You okay?” Emily gave him a concerned look as they climbed into his truck.
He adjusted his cap and set his mirrored sunglasses on his nose. “Yup.” He drove the short distance to the former site of
McClains’ Orchard and parked in the lot near the entrance. A brand-new sign declared the orchard was renamed “Apple Haven—Splendid
Lake’s Premier Orchard.”
Emily bounced out of the truck and made a beeline toward the entrance. She peeked through the gate and took in the signs.
Biting her lip, she moved her fingers over her mother’s rings while she studied everything.
He came up behind her and read over her shoulder. The Coming Soon sign promised a “fabulous fall festival fun for all ages
coming in September” with hayrides, a pumpkin patch, and “the most delicious apples in North Carolina,” as well as “loads
of activities for kids” at discount prices.
How could Jake’s family’s traditional orchard compete with that when they were dealing with his father’s hospital bills and
Ally’s steep tuition?
Great. Just great.
His head started to throb.
“Quit frowning,” she ordered, grabbing his hand and yanking him toward the truck. “Let’s go. We have work to do.”
Back in the truck, Emily grabbed a spiral notebook from her giant bag and began writing furiously.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Thinking,” she quipped. “Just drive.”
“Okay . . .” He exited the parking lot, and when they hit the road, his stomach growled. “You hungry?”
“Sure,” she responded without peering up from her growing list.
“Let’s pick up food and go to my place,” he said before heading back toward downtown for takeout.
Emily looked up from her doodles and list just as Jake parked in front of his one-story ranch-style house. She recalled when
he’d moved into the house nearly eight years ago when he’d decided it was time for him to grow up, move out of his folks’
house, and get his own bachelor pad. The two-bedroom, one-bathroom, one-car-garage home had once been used as staff quarters
when his father’s former orchard manager lived on the grounds.
When the orchard manager retired, Leon asked Jake to take a more active role at the orchard, and Jake had recruited Emily,